The Legacy of Whirling Tides
by Tylanoid
Summary: Harry's excited when he discovers a box full of his mother's things. When he looks inside, all he finds is three months in a coma, an unwanted shoulder tattoo, and a stranger's voice in his head. Life is never simple.
1. Buried Alive

**Chapter 1 – Buried Alive**

About half an hour is all it takes for Harry's mood go from fantastic to dreadful. One moment he's on the Hogwarts Express having fun with his friends, and seemingly the next he's stepping into his aunt and uncle's house, wishing he wouldn't have to once again become accustomed to the familiar combination of loneliness, boredom and misery that is all pervading at Number Four Privet Drive.

He's been inside for all of five seconds, and he can already feel it. Dudley is in the next room, ranting at his mother about something or another, and Vernon is stepping inside behind him, grumbling about Harry being in his way, and the inconvenience about having to go and pick him up.

Before Vernon evolves from grizzling to a full on angry tirade, Harry drags his suitcase through the front door and towards the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" Vernon grumbles, giving Harry his best 'are you an idiot' face.

Harry arches a single eyebrow. "To my room?"

Vernon shuts the front door with a huff. "Not this year. Marge is coming, and she will be sleeping in the spare bedroom."

 _Spare bedroom._ Not his bedroom. No matter what he could do, no matter how much he could ever try to be a part of the Dursley's family, they would never think of it as _his_ bedroom. He's just a temporary visitor, the same as ever.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

Vernon's eyes flick towards the cupboard under the stairs, but he doesn't actually say it out loud.

 _No way._

"You _must_ be kidding," Harry all but growls.

Vernon's face colors. It's one of the sure signs that his short fuse has been lit.

"Don't take that tone with me! We were good enough to take you in, and kind enough to give you Dudley's second bedroom. You will do as you're told!"

Harry almost laughs, despite the situation not being in the slightest bit humorous.

"Believe it or not, I have actually grown since I was _eleven,_ " Harry comments, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "I don't actually _fit_ in there anymore."

He might only be thirteen, and not even a particularly big thirteen, but it's definitely true that he's too big now to still be sleeping in the cupboard, even for a limited time. Hell, he was too big when he was eleven, let alone now. It was the reason they'd told him they'd given him Dudley's second bedroom, after all. He's not about to just go back to his childhood life just because _evil Aunt_ _Marge_ is coming.

"You're just going to have to make do," Vernon says, stalking past Harry, and making it sound like the final word.

Harry shakes his head, not that his uncle can see it. "What if I sleep on the-" Harry starts.

Vernon doesn't even let him finish before he's turning around to refute the idea firmly. "There's no way you are sleeping on our couch."

"You can't seriously expect me to spend the whole summer cooped up in that cupboard!" Harry argues in a rare show of courage towards his uncle.

"And where else should I expect you to stay?"

In any other house, the most logical conclusion would be for Harry to stay in Dudley's room, but there's no way that'll happen. God forbid that Harry's magic starts to affect Dudley, as if it's some sort of contagious disease.

But there's still one room in the house that's big enough to house him, even if he's never been in it before.

"What about the attic?"

Vernon hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. "The attic is full of junk. There's no room for you."

It's not _really_ a no, not in the firm way any other suggestions would be.

"What if I clear it out?" Harry suggests. For Vernon it would be a win win. His attic gets cleared out, and Harry has somewhere to stay and won't spend the entire summer complaining. Not to mention that it will essentially isolate Harry from the rest of them. In fact, that's probably the biggest benefit for _both_ of them.

Vernon taps his chin several times, seemingly actually contemplating the idea.

"You'll clear it out, completely?"

Harry nods. "Right down to the last box."

Vernon sighs and waves a hand through the air. "Fine then" he says, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. "But that attic better be _spotless_ by the time you're done."

* * *

Harry's first thought upon seeing the attic is that he's bitten off more than he can chew. Vernon had said that it's 'full of junk,' but if anything, that now seems like an extreme understatement.

It looks like _decades_ worth of forgotten objects. Old and broken furniture, boxes full of photos and memorabilia and what looks to be thousands of Dudley's old toys and games.

Still, it's worth it. Even if it takes him the better part of his summer holidays, it at least means that he can stay out of the Dursley's way, and that he can set up a bedroom up here, rather than being forced to sleep in the cupboard… _again._

He decides that the best way to do it is to separate it into different groups. If he can group up all the things that his aunt and uncle might want to keep, as well as remove anything clearly broken and useless, it should give him enough room to lie a mattress down, so that he will at least have a place to sleep.

There's no point in waiting now that he's already volunteered, so he gets started right away.

It's tougher than he thought it would be. It's not that anything is particularly heavy or anything, but more the sheer volume of _crap_ there is. He'd handled everything fairly gingerly in the beginning, but now anything that looks like it'll just be thrown in the rubbish he simply throws across the room to his allocated 'junk' corner.

On the other hand, there is so much in the attic that Harry wouldn't consider junk that it's laughable. Old black and white photos in nice frames, mostly. There's even a few that Harry suspects could be of his grandparents, but he's not about to go and ask Petunia that. Despite them knowing that Harry's clearing out the attic, no doubt they would consider him snooping should he ask.

But it's the box at the very back wall that Harry can't believe is up here. So many years as a child he begged his aunt to tell him more about his mother. All he ever got was that she died in a car accident. Even at Hogwarts he never found out a great deal. Sure, now he knows that she was kind and an incredible witch, and he has a picture of her, but he still doesn't know _nearly_ enough. All that and the whole time there has been a box in the attic with her name on it.

Harry approaches it, kicking the other boxes and trash out of the way as he does. There's nothing special about it at all, just a simple cardboard box with Lily inscribed with a black marker.

He unfolds the top of the box, his brows furrowing as he looks inside. He's not sure what he was expecting to be inside, but it certainly wasn't a box filled with unfurled scrolls. None of them are very big, the largest of them appearing to be about as long as his forearm. He grabs the one on top and turns it over in his hands. There's nothing too distinctive about it, just a simple scroll covered in markings of thick, black ink.

Harry starts unrolling it, hoping perhaps some of its secrets are hidden inside. Instead, all he finds is more questions. It's not any sort of writing he's ever seen, looking more like symbols, arranged in some strange pattern.

 _Ancient Runes?_

There's no guarantee of course, but its possible that Lily studied Ancient Runes when she was at Hogwarts, and some of those mysteries will be revealed by studying the same.

 _I wonder if it_ _'s too late to change electives for my third year?_

Harry rolls the scroll up and sets it down gently aside the box. He digs deeper through it, setting a large pile of scrolls with the first one.

He finally finds something other than a scroll near the bottom. It's not something that answers any questions, but still, it's something. It's a long strip of black cloth, attached to the middle of which is a solid metal plate. Inscribed on the plate is a strange swirl pattern, like an encircled spiral.

He sets that down, too, only to find another scroll lying underneath. This one _feels_ different from the other's though. Where the others didn't seem to be anything other than what they are, something is screaming at Harry that this last scroll is different. He doesn't know what senses are telling him so, but the last scroll just seems to be positively _humming_ with power.

He gingerly reaches out to touch it. Nothing happens.

But the feeling of power hasn't vanished, so Harry pulls it from the box, pushing aside some rubbish on the floor so that he can unfurl it completely. This one too is covered in strange symbols, but it stands out from the others right in the center. All the symbols on the entire page seem to be surrounding the one right in the middle, a symbol that is glowing bright red, the clear source of the power.

Unsure of himself, Harry reaches out to touch it. He draws his hand back for a moment, and, drawing on all of his Gryffindor courage, places his hand fully on the glowing red mark.

He regrets it immediately.

Pain shoots up his arm, and the symbols on the scroll begin moving across the page, shooting up his arm in little waves. Harry struggles to remove his hand from the page, but it's like he and the scroll are both glued to the floor.

The top of his arm, near his shoulder, begins to grow hot. He reaches across to lift his sleeve, wincing in pain as he witnesses the symbols move up his arm and transform themselves into an thick black tattoo. He's almost screaming out from the pain as more and more of the scroll forces itself onto his previously unblemished skin.

It feels like so much longer, but the whole things probably only takes about a minute to fully form itself on his arm. The burning on his arm begins to subside, but it's still hot, and the skin is red and blotchy around where it's settled.

It looks different on his arm than it did on the page. Some of the symbols are the same, but this one traverses around his whole arm, all the symbols surrounding a newer symbol, the same one transcribed on the metal plate. The encircled swirl pattern.

Harry slowly gets back to his feet. He has no idea what's just happened, but he's not stupid enough to not mention it to anyone.

Before he even gets the chance to owl anyone, he's off his feet again, doubling over in pain, this time clutching his stomach. It hit him instantly, a thousand times worse than any stomach cramp he's ever had in his whole life.

He's already writhing in pain when the scar on his forehead begins to burn too. Closely following, the already hot tattoo on his right shoulder heats back up, and now his forehead and shoulder and burning, feeling like they're on fire, and he feels more sick every second.

He begins banging on the floor, unable to move more than that, and willing to try anything to get someone's attention.

He doesn't get much of a chance. After about a minute of the most excruciating pain he's ever felt, he passes out.

* * *

It takes him a good ten seconds to understand where he is when he wakes up. All of the pain from before is still absolutely present, and he gets the feeling that it's been going on for some time.

He's in the living room of the Dursley house, lying on the lounge. It's dark outside, now, a clear sign that it's been hours since he got like this.

"We have to take him to a hospital!" he hears Petunia whisper urgently from the kitchen beyond.

 _Please_ _…_

"How can we?" Vernon whispers back. "If our kind don't blame us for his condition, _his_ will!"

"But he's dying!"

"No hospital can save him. It's probably some… _freak_ disease he's got anyway."

 _I_ _'m dying?_ With the amount of pain he's in, it doesn't sound too ridiculous. With the way his scar is hurting, too, it seems more than likely that Voldemort is involved.

"Then what are we going to do?" Petunia asks, sounding utterly desperate.

Harry doesn't hear Vernon's solution before he's passing out again.

* * *

When Harry wakes again, he's lying on cold, wet grass. He can't see much, just the shadowy silhouettes of a couple of nearby people. He can hear the soft thud of something smashing into the ground, and then dirt falling onto the ground nearby.

 _They_ _'re burying me? Alive?_

He doesn't have the strength to speak. He's still in an unbelievable amount of pain, and at this point he feels like he's simply trapped in his own body. Whatever this mark is on his shoulder, and whatever it's done to the rest of his body, it's sapped every single bit of his energy, down to the point where he can't control a single one of his limbs.

"Are you _sure_ about this, Vernon?" Petunia asks. He can't see her, but from the sound of her voice, she's terrified.

"We've talked about this, Pet," Vernon answers her, sounding both like he's trying to soothe his wife's fears and to shut her up. There's the sound of more dirt falling on the ground.

"But… _they_ _'ll_ _know._ "

There's a few moments of awkward silence before Vernon answers. The air is tense, and Harry can practically _feel_ the fear emanating from his aunt and uncle.

"All we have to do is say that the boy ran away. Then we have no idea what happened to him," Vernon explains, though his tone is more uncertain than Harry's ever heard from him before.

There's several more seconds of tense silence before the digging sound begins again in earnest.

Harry's trying desperately to call out that this is a mistake, that they don't need to do this, but there's nothing. Whatever's happening to his body, he doesn't have any semblance of control, not even enough to sound off a whimper.

"I think that's enough," Vernon finally says after a few more minutes digging in silence. Harry hears his heavy footsteps get closer to where he lies on the cold grass.

Vernon's not gentle when he picks him up, shoving one arm underneath the back of his knees, and the other under his back. Harry's head lulls back helplessly as he's lifted off the ground.

It means at the very least that Harry can see more of his surroundings. It's dark still, but the Dursley's car headlights is illuminating a little of the way in front of them.

They're definitely not anywhere near civilization. There's trees all around, and a dirt path that they'd obviously driven through to get here. Even if Harry had the strength to call out for help, out here in the middle of nowhere, nobody would even hear him.

And there's the hole that Vernon has been digging.

 _My final resting place._

It doesn't look nearly as long as a normal grave, but that's not surprising. In a cemetery, bodies are given the dignity of being buried comfortably, and in a coffin. Harry knows he's not going to get the same treatment. He'll just get tossed unceremoniously into the grave and the dirt heaped on top of him.

It's desperation that allows Harry to finally find at least a part of his voice.

"H-Help…" he manages to stammer out. It's so quiet that Harry doesn't even know if Vernon will be able to hear him, but from the way he stops walking, he clearly must have.

Vernon shifts his arm so that he's lifting Harry's head slightly to look into his eyes. Vernon's face looks pale, even with the dark shadows over his face. It's only from the ambient light of the nearby car headlights that he's able to see him at all, but even with limited vision, Harry can see the fear in his eyes.

There's no doubt that he can see Harry is still alive, had heard him weakly beg for help.

"Vernon, what's wrong?" Petunia squeaks.

Again, Vernon hesitates before he answers. After a few moments though, he keeps moving forward towards the makeshift grave.

"Nothing," he answers.

He really shouldn't be surprised. Even if he wasn't terrified to the point of near insanity, Vernon would jump at the chance to get Harry out of their lives forever.

 _I guess this is the end._

Vernon puts him down on the grass next to the grave. He's a mere inch from the edge, and one tiny push is all it will take. One tiny push means his final end.

Petunia screams.

Its a horrid, terrified scream, the stuff of nightmares.

Vernon turns away from Harry, calling out into the darkness for his wife.

Harry doesn't hear her answer. He feels unconsciousness coming on him again, and all he hears before his eyes shut again is an angry, loud growl.

* * *

 **Notes**

Not much Naruto in this first chapter, but I assure you, it's coming. I hope you enjoy it :)

Also, for anyone following my other Hp/Naruto fic, an update for that is coming soon. It's going through MASSIVE rewrites, most of which is already done. I've also written a chapter for earlier in the story, and half of the next chapter after the last time I updated.

Thanks


	2. Broken Faith

**Chapter 2 - Broken Faith**

When he normally looks out the window of the Uzukage's tower, all he can see is the unparalleled beauty of his village. Today, all he sees is violence and destruction.

It all happened so quickly, and equally unexpectedly. A thick mist rolled over with the cool morning air over the ocean… and the enemy came with it.

The normally peaceful harbor, usually dotted with silver sailed ships bearing the whirlpool crest of the Uzumaki, is now filled with enemy ships bearing the crests of other hidden villages. An alliance made with the express purpose of destroying Uzushio.

The lower town is on fire, and even this far away he can hear the all too familiar sounds of fighting in the streets below. It's a far cry from what he can usually hear from his office, of laughing children with bright red hair and birds chirping happily.

As much as the attack has come as a surprise, the Uzukage knows why it's happening. Uzushiogakure has grown powerful even without their prodigious abilities with fuinjutsu, and their close alliance with the Hidden Leaf means that they're automatically a target in the current Shinobi World War.

"Lord Uzukage!" one of his personal Anbu bursts into the office. Her armor is splattered with blood and grime, and she's sporting a large, deep cut up her right arm.

The Uzukage doesn't turn away from the large window that overlooks the village. His village.

"Anike," he greets calmly, using her true name rather than her assigned code name. There's no point, now, not with what he's about to do.

"I have to get you out of here, Lord Uzukage!" she says, crossing the room in a mere instant to be by his side. "The village will soon be completely overrun, there's no time to spare."

The urgency in her tone does nothing to affect him. Even if they do escape, the village will still fall, and he has still failed. He's failed no matter what option he chooses, but there is still a path open to him that may protect the future.

"It's too late for that, child."

Anike removes her white mask with a sigh. She's very pretty, with unblemished creamy skin, and short, Uzumaki red hair that grows no further than her shoulders.

"Lord Uzukage," she says desperately, "please allow me to guide you out of here."

He doesn't respond, simply getting one final look at his village, trying to remember it as it was, rather than the picture it currently presents. He'll remember instead the buildings below shining bright under the morning sun, and the gleam coming off the open ocean.

Reluctantly, he pulls his gaze away from the window. Anike follows him immediately. "Follow me. My Anbu have cut a path," she informs, clearly thinking she has him convinced.

Again, the Uzukage shakes his head. Instead, he walks over to the door on the right hand side of his office. It's a door that is very rarely opened, and if ever, only by himself. It's defended by an impenetrable seal that only he can open.

"Not that, Lord Uzukage! We can still recover from this situation!" Anike cries. As his head Anbu, she's one of only three people who knows what's inside. The other is his head jonin, but it's more than likely that he's fallen on the battlefield by now, having been fighting in the now overrun lower district.

He doesn't answer her protest, instead lifting his hand to peel the seal off the door. He turns the handle and steps inside, letting Anike follow in behind him before shutting it behind them.

The room itself is especially unique. Painted entirely white and completely windowless, every inch of space, including the floor and roof, is covered in kanji and technique formulae. All the room together is one fuinjutsu seal, the most elaborate by far that he has ever written. Probably the most elaborate that has _ever_ been written. After all, he is a fuinjutsu master, even when compared to others who might be considered to have the same rank.

"My Lord… are you certain?"

The Uzukage nods seriously. "I'm afraid this is the only viable option. For the sake of the village's future, it _must_ be activated."

The seal was designed as a Plan Z, a failsafe should the very worst occur. It would have been tremendous should it never be needed, but alas, it was in the end inevitable.

"But you'll die! My duty is to keep you safe!"

That's mostly true, but given the circumstances, there is no other choice. He steps over to the middle of the room, right over the activation point of the seal.

"My duty is to protect _all_ of the village, Anike, and I'm afraid that my duty takes precedence over yours," he says kindly.

She looks agitated, but she couldn't stop him even if she dared to try. There is a reason that he's Uzukage, after all, even if he has grown weary in his advanced age.

"Find them, Anike. They will need someone to turn to. Especially the young ones - they will not understand," he asks.

She begins shaking her head, a few tears leaking out of her eyes, as much as she tries to prevent them. A shinobi should never cry, but in his experience, they've generally got more reason to cry than anyone.

"I'm not a leader," Anike sobs. "Let _me_ activate the seal, and then you can find the survivors."

Even if he wanted to let her do it, it would be impossible. It was designed solely for his use, and only he has the chakra levels required. Even if they've waned in his old age, the Uzukage's chakra reserves are still the largest in the village. All Uzumaki have high chakra reserves, and Anike is no exception, but this is a path that only he can take.

He also knows that what she says about herself is true. She's never wanted a true leadership position. She works better alone, and despite her position as the captain of all the village's Anbu, she generally lets her underlings take command. Still, as well in this, circumstances mean that there is no other choice.

"This isn't a request. This is the last order of your Uzukage," he says, a little firmer.

She dips her head down in shame, and he reaches out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I _know_ you'll do me proud. It was truly an honor to serve as your Uzukage," he says with a tone of finality.

Anike is truly crying now, the tears running freely down her face.

With his heart a combination of sorrow and immense love for his people, the Uzukage performs the necessary hand signs before slamming a palm into the seal underneath him.

The kanji all across the room begin to glow red, and the pull on his chakra is felt _instantly_. After a lifetime of learning jutsu, and being able to perform a great many of them, he has _never_ felt a cost of this magnitude. Of course, that is to be expected. After all, it is a suicide jutsu, even if it's purpose is to give life to his people.

Before his very eyes, Anike disappears. He knows, even if he can't see them, that outside in the village the rest of his people are disappearing too, being sent to all corners, separated from each other for their own safety.

 _Good luck, my children._

The Uzukage dies smiling.

* * *

Harry wakes from the strangest dream he's ever had. It didn't even feel like _his_ dream, more like he was living the memories of another. Even more than that… living his _final_ memories.

He slowly opens his eyes. They're heavy, and sticky from too much sleep. He's woken up from deep sleeps before, where it takes a second or two for his eyes to properly adjust to the light, but it's a good ten seconds before he's able to get a good look at the room.

It's plain white, sun streaming in the window onto the bottom of the white blankets covering the bed he's in.

Molly Weasley is asleep in a chair by his bed, two knitting needles and a half finished scarf rested in her lap.

 _Am I in hospital?_

It all comes back to him in a rush. The strange mark he had touched, his sickness, and almost getting buried alive by his uncle.

 _I_ _'m alive._ He breathes a sigh of relief.

It's barely even audible, but Mrs Weasley has clearly been on edge waiting for him, and her eyes open immediately.

"Harry! You're finally awake!" She's on her feet and taking a step closer before turning her head out towards the door. "Arthur!" she calls.

She reaches out to give him a tight hug. He's too surprised to reciprocate. He can feel her hot tears dripping onto his neck.

 _Was it so bad? I was truly dying?_

Arthur steps into the room, his face morphing from confusion to utter relief.

"You had us quite worried, young man," he says. "But I'm glad to see you awake."

Harry licks his lips, dry and cracked, and tries to speak. Not much more than a soft croak comes out.

Molly pats his hair gently. "It's okay dear, take your time."

Harry clears his throat and tries again. "St Mungo's?" he manages to ask raspily.

Arthur sits at the end of his bed and gives him a gentle nod. "Yes. You've been here for some time."

 _Some time?_

"How did I get here?" Harry asks. "Did my aunt and uncle-?"

There's a flash of anger across Molly's face that cuts him off. There's no doubt in his mind now that they know what Vernon had almost done to him.

" _No,_ " Molly says firmly. "But we don't know who called the medi-wizards. They got an anonymous message."

 _If it went straight to St Mungo_ _'s, then it_ _ **can**_ _ **'t**_ _have been a muggle._

Harry shakes his head, filing that question away in his brain for later contemplation.

"How long?" Harry rasps again, his voice coming just slightly clearer now.

Arthur and Molly share a brief look of worry.

"Today is September 7th," he answers.

September 7th?

 _Almost three months?_

Harry's breathing grows rapid as he tries to wrap his head around it. He's been what… comatose? Throughout the entire summer? Hogwarts has already been in session for the first week, and he's been lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

Molly doesn't lift her comforting hand from Harry's shoulder.

"You've been in a coma for all this time," she says. "Do you remember what happened?"

Harry's brows furrow, but he turns his head to look at his bare shoulder. The mark from the scroll remains, an unwanted black tattoo that's circled around his upper arm.

"What is this thing?" Harry asks.

Another sigh.

"We were hoping you could tell us. Even the best experts in Ancient Runes haven't been able to make heads or tails of it," Arthur explains. "So that _is_ the cause of your illness?"

Harry nods slowly. "I started feeling sick as soon as it appeared."

 _How could they not know what it is?_

"But how do you feel, Harry?" Molly asks suddenly, her tone lined with concern. "Are you in any pain? Do you need me to call a medi-witch?"

Harry doesn't even know how to really answer that question.

"I'm just confused," Harry says, head spinning. How could a mystery mark appear on his shoulder and then leave him comatose for nearly _three months?_

"But physically…" she prompts. "How are you feeling?"

"I…" Harry starts. Surprisingly, he feels great. Absolutely weak, ironically like he's been awake for three days without sleep, but not in any pain.

"I feel weak, but… energized? Does that make sense?"

 _No, it doesn_ _'t._

The two are looking at him with an unreadable expression. "I mean… I feel kind of… _light._ Like a weight has been lifted," he continues trying to explain, but still feeling like he's making no sense.

As stupid as he feels like he's being, from the look that passes between the two elder Weasley's, he must be making some sort of sense to them.

"I think we ought to show you something," Arthur says. Molly reaches out to the table behind her and picks up a small hand mirror. She holds it up in front of Harry's face.

He looks like crap, pale and thin, but that's no surprise after three months in a coma. His hair has grown long and hangs over his forehead, but underneath it, there's something different. He slowly reaches up to brush some of it to the side.

His scar, the one marking him as the boy who lived, the only survivor of the killing curse, has disappeared completely.

* * *

It's not until late that afternoon that Dumbledore arrives. Harry had known without the Weasley's telling him that he would.

The old man has a bright smile and that familiar twinkle in his eye as he steps into Harry's hospital room. He's carrying a large cardboard box, the same one from the Dursley's attic marked with his mother's name.

"Ahh, Harry my boy. So good to see you awake at last."

Harry doesn't respond. He doesn't even know what he'd say if he even felt like talking. Once again, his life is a complete mystery to him. It's getting pretty old.

"How are you feeling?" Dumbledore asks.

That question is getting old, too. It was fine when Arthur and Molly asked for the first time, but after an entire afternoon of medi-witches and wizards asking him the same question, it was beginning to annoy.

"I'm fine," Harry answers shortly.

Dumbledore nods sagely, pretending not to notice Harry's attitude. There's no doubt that he did though. He knows that Dumbledore is far too intelligent and observant to miss even the smallest of details, even if he does pretend much of the time to be a silly old man.

He sits down at the end of Harry's bed, putting the box on the floor in front of him. He gently pats Harry's leg. "We've been quite worried about you."

Again, Harry doesn't say anything.

He catches Dumbledore's eyes drift from his face down to his right shoulder, where the mark remains.

"It doesn't hurt?"

Harry shakes his head. Unlike the burning from when it had appeared, he hasn't felt it even a little since waking up.

"Mr Weasley said that nobody knows what it is…" Harry states suspiciously, half asking Dumbledore if that's true. It's hard to believe that a man with Dumbledore's reputation for all things magical that he wouldn't have any idea what it is.

Nonetheless, the elderly man nods. "It's true," he admits, though it seems to sadden him to say it. "I was hoping that you yourself might be able to give us some information about what it is."

Harry shakes his head. "I've got no idea. Surely there is _someone_ who knows-"

Dumbledore shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop him. "There is a reason we call the subject at Hogwarts _Ancient_ Runes, Harry. There is very much that we don't know."

"Then how do we know that it's to do with these Ancient Runes at all?" Harry demands. It seems perfectly reasonable that if they can't figure them out, then perhaps they're looking at it in the wrong way.

"Truth be told, we don't," Dumbledore admits. "But we recognize at least some of the symbols, but even with that, we can't make the slightest sense of it."

 _So just another unsolvable mystery._

"Harry, I want you to walk me through what happened to you this summer. It might help shed some light on what all this means."

And so Harry does. He tells him how he was clearing the attic when he spotted the box with Lily's name, and how the mark appeared when he touched that certain scroll. Dumbledore prompts him to give as much detail as possible, so Harry struggles not to leave anything out.

"Be very specific," Dumbledore implores, "You say that your scar hurt first, and then the mark on your shoulder?"

Harry nods. "Well the mark hurt when it was moving from the scroll to my shoulder, but then it stopped. Afterwards, yes, my scar started to burn before the mark did, but I already felt sick."

Dumbledore begins stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Interesting," he murmurs.

"Interesting?" Harry repeats, annoyed. "Care to explain?"

Dumbledore gets up from his seat at the end of Harry's bed and begins to pace, looking so deep in thought that Harry doubts he even heard.

"Professor!" Harry calls out.

Dumbledore stops pacing and looks up to meet his eyes.

"What is interesting?"

Dumbledore doesn't answer him for several long seconds. He just stares into Harry's eyes, blue piercing into green.

"It's just conjecture at this point. I'm not sure it would be at all beneficial to give you any information until-"

"No!" Harry yells at his headmaster for the first time in his life. "Stop acting like this is happening to _you!_ This isn't _your_ mystery to solve!"

Dumbledore sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Harry, I understand that you are frustrated."

 _Frustrated? Understatement._

"But I am far more experienced, and far wiser-"

"This is my _life,_ " Harry argues firmly. "I'm not _stupid_ , if that's what you think. My scar is gone, which means this…thing," he motions towards the tattoo on his shoulder, "has something to do with Voldemort."

Dumbledore has a very brief moment where he looks very sad, and every bit his age. He recovers himself quickly though. "You're still young Harry, and I don't feel comfortable sharing this information with you, yet."

Harry lips press together in white line. "Are you going to tell me anything? At all?"

Dumbledore's sad look returns, but this time it doesn't vanish. "As soon as I have an answer worth giving to you, I will share it," Dumbledore says in a soothing manner.

But the way he says it doesn't matter. The real truth is quite simple. Dumbledore doesn't trust him. He still wants to keep treating him like a child, despite him constantly being under circumstances that no child ever usually has to face.

"Then I don't want you here," Harry determines adamantly.

Dumbledore frowns. "I am still your headmaster, and I still deserve a modicum of respect."

 _Respect?_

That just serves to make Harry angrier. "I'll show you as much as respect as you show me," he says. "So unless you have information to share, I'd like you to leave."

Dumbledore nods sadly. "They tell me that if nothing changes in your condition, you will be released tomorrow. Someone will be by to escort you to Hogwarts at that time," he says officially.

They lock eyes once more, but Harry's not about to apologise just because the elderly man looks sad. The power is all on Dumbledore's side. If he wants to fix things with Harry, he's going to have to start telling him the truth.

Before leaving, Dumbledore bends down to pick up the box of scrolls from the Dursley's attic. He turns to Harry.

"I was going to ask you about these as well, to see if they can reveal anything about the mark on your shoulder?"

Harry simply turns his head to stare out the window, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

Dumbledore takes the hint and leaves, taking the box with him.

* * *

 _ **Notes**_

A little of the Naruto universe in this chapter, but still ALOT of questions to be answered. Rest assured, Harry hasn't asked all the questions that he will, and the fate of the Dursley's will be revealed in time.

Also, I'm very grateful to the response to this story so far. Almost 150 follows from the first chapter alone, so thanks very very much. A special thanks to those who took the time to review. The responses to those that have questions are below (I find it easier to do this way instead of by private messages). I generally only respond to those who ask a question which isn't answered in the new chapter, but I remain grateful to _everyone_ who reviews.

 _ **Review Responses**_

 **Gibthegrey** \- First indeed! Thanks for the compliment, and for the offer. At this point I think I'm okay for a beta, but tbh that could change at any time, so I'll keep you in mind :)

 **Livingpanda** \- Thanks :) The guest bedroom and Dudley's second bedroom in this fic are essentially the same thing. From the time it was given to Harry, it basically became the guest bedroom.

 **Randomasrainbows** \- I remember thinking about Hedwig at some point during writing the first chap, but I guess I forgot to add her in. She was there though! (Is it bad that I just sort of included her in Harry's luggage?)

 **KyuubiChild717** \- The thought of being buried alive terrifies me, too. Alot of your questions have been answered with this chapter, and the rest will definitely be answered in future chapters.


	3. Kichiro

**Chapter 3 - Kichiro**

As Dumbledore promised, Harry is escorted back to Hogwarts a day after waking. He arrives in the late afternoon, just as final classes are ending.

It's probably the _worst_ time for him to return. It means that the halls are full of people, and no matter whether it's been for good or bad, Harry has always been one that people notice. Now he's been missing for the first week of school, and his famous scar has disappeared.

So if people felt they had a reason to stare at the boy-who-lived _before_ , then they definitely feel like they do now. Molly had told him that his condition had, fortunately, not reached the papers, but if anything all that means is that the nosy students of Hogwarts are all the more curious as to where he's been.

"He's back," Harry hears one Hufflepuff whisper to another as he passes them on the grand staircase.

It's all he deals with all the way up to the Gryffindor common room. People whisper as he passes, and their eyes flick upwards to his forehead, either trying to get a glimpse of his scar, or being shocked at the lack of it. He ignores them all the way, simply pushing his way through the crowds of students.

It's not until he's standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait that he realizes he has no idea what the password is.

"Harry!" there's a loud yell behind him. He barely even has time to turn around before Hermione is throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his back.

"Thank Merlin you're alright," she half sobs.

Over her shoulder, Harry sees Ron pull up behind her.

"Ease up, let the man breathe," he laughs. "But it's damn good to see you, mate."

Hermione pulls back and Harry gives them a grateful smile. He's still angry over his ordeal with Dumbledore, so it's still nice to know that there are people out there who genuinely care about him beyond who he is.

"We heard you were awake, we were just about to go and talk to Professor McGonagall about coming to see you at the hospital," Hermione says.

"Though I did tell her there was no way McGonagall would _ever_ say yes," Ron adds.

Harry laughs, more at the cross look the flits over Hermione's features than at what the other boy actually said.

"But are you sure you're ready to be back at school so fast?" Hermione asks. "Didn't you only wake up yesterday?"

Harry shrugs. "I feel great, actually." It's not even close to a lie. What he'd told Mr and Mrs Weasley yesterday about having a weight lifted still stands today, and now he doesn't feel weak, either. He'd woken hours ago feeling like he'd taken a pepper-up potion, and the effect still hasn't worn off.

"But you were comatose for so long," Hermione frets. "Shouldn't they have kept you for observation a little longer?"

Harry shrugs again. "I'm not going to question it. I don't want to be cooped up in a hospital bed anyway."

Hermione frowns again, but steps up to the portrait and speaks the password. Harry and Ron step inside after her, with Ron giving him a happy clap on the back.

"On the plus side, at least I didn't have to spend too long with the Dursley's. It's like I only left Hogwarts a couple of days ago and now I'm already back," Harry laughs as they step fully into the common room.

Ron laughs awkwardly, but Hermione doesn't seem to see the humor. "What they did to you is awful."

It's surprising that they actually know what happened. If he had his way, nobody would, not a single person. The more people that know, the more that will want to talk about it, and Harry would prefer to forget it ever happened at all.

Harry shrugs again. Laughing about it wouldn't bother him at all if Ron and Hermione didn't know what had almost been done to him, but knowing that they do, he can't help but feel self-conscious.

"So what do you guys know about my… illness?" Harry asks, quickly changing the subject away. He'd wanted to ask them anyway, just in case they'd been told or had overheard something that Harry himself doesn't know. It's a long shot, but any information at all could be helpful, especially if Dumbledore isn't going to tell him anything.

"Just that you got that weird tattoo thing and it made you sick, and then your scar disappeared," Ron explains.

Harry looks to Hermione. If anyone's going to have a theory about what all of it means, it's going to be her.

"It's the same for me," Hermione says, for once being entirely unhelpful. "They wouldn't tell us much. It was a long time before they would even let us near you - I think they were worried it might have been contagious."

 _So they really don_ _'t know anything more than I do._ It was a long shot thinking that it might be otherwise, but there was always a chance that they might have overheard something they shouldn't have.

"But I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this," Hermione says, sounding determined to solve their latest mystery. "Professor Dumbledore-"

"Isn't interested in sharing what he finds," Harry cuts her off sharply. "He told me so himself. He doesn't think I'm _ready,_ " he adds sarcastically at her inquisitive look.

There's a brief silence before Hermione speaks again. "Perhaps he's just trying to make sure he has all the information before he speaks to you about it?" She suggests.

Harry looks away. "Don't defend him," he snaps.

It creates an awkward silence, but Harry doesn't really care. All he wants to do is get to the bottom of this. So much about it is just _complicated._ It's bad enough that he was in a coma for three months, but it's something of his _mother_ _'s_ that put him there, and that makes it all the worse.

It's Ron who finally breaks the silence. "So how are you dealing with the whole Sirius Black thing?"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

Hermione and Ron share a worried look. Harry gets the feeling he's about to get the cherry on top of a really crappy few days.

* * *

Harry lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to work out exactly what cosmic entity he must have pissed off to deserve this hand of fate.

So not only does he have this mystery to solve about his new shoulder tattoo, but now he has a fanatic follower of Voldemort escaping Azkaban with the sole purpose of coming to kill him?

 _Will my life always be like this?_

If Harry wasn't angry enough with Dumbledore already, he's positively _furious_ now. What possible reason could he have for not telling Harry about _this_ at least? How could it possibly slip his attention that Harry deserves to know that there's someone out there whose only goal in life it is to kill him?

" _Carrying alot of anxiety for one so young, aren't you?"_

The voice has Harry darting upwards in bed, sitting upright and looking around his four poster bed. He can't hear anything outside of the familiar soft snores of Ron and Neville, accompanied by the heavy breathing of the sleeping Seamus and Dean on the other side of the dormitory.

But he's certain that he heard something. A deep male voice, a little croaky, like the sound that comes with age.

"Is someone there?" Harry whispers, reaching slowly outside of his bed curtains and feeling the familiar comforting length of his wand on his bedside table.

Nobody answers.

Heart still pounding, Harry swings open his curtain and steps outside of the bed. Even with his lit wand, he can't see anyone in the room either. Shaking his head, he makes his way to the bathroom.

 _Maybe I fell asleep for a moment and it was a dream?_ It's not implausible, but he doesn't think it's what happened. He had definitely heard a voice.

Harry bends over the sink and splashes some water on his face.

" _If I'd known you would panic so much, I would've waited a little longer before revealing myself."_

Harry snaps upwards when the voice sounds again, banging his head on the metal tap. Despite the pain, he holds his wand aloft in front of him, tip lit with a 'lumos.'

"Who's there?" he asks, trying to sound threatening, but it comes out like more of a whimper of a small child.

Silence fills the small bathroom once again. Harry looks around cautiously, prepared to defend himself against whoever this intruder is.

" _Still aren't getting it?"_ the voice sounds again.

Harry understands this time why he can't see anyone in the room with him. The sound isn't coming from outside. It's in his _head._

He doesn't say anything more, instead moving over to the mirror and rubbing at his eyes. He wants to pinch himself, just to make sure it isn't some crazy lucid dream.

He lifts his gaze to look himself in the eye, but that's not what catches his gaze. He's not wearing a shirt, having been in bed, and the tattoo over his shoulder is clearly visible.

There's only one possible cause of this voice in his head. Only one thing in his life that has happened recently enough to explain the emergence of such a thing.

He stares intently at the strange tattoo, a pattern of strange symbols and markings surrounding that _familiar_ swirl pattern.

" _That's right,"_ the voice says, confirming Harry's suspicions.

Harry still doesn't answer, and doesn't even know if he _should_ answer. There's a part of him that wants to head straight to Dumbledore's office and tell him what's going on, but he immediately dismisses the thought. Trust goes both ways. Whatever this is, he can handle it himself.

" _I am speaking the language correctly, am I not?"_ the voice asks, presumably at Harry's lack of response. _"No, I must be,"_ it concludes. _"After all, I pulled the knowledge directly from your head."_

 _It can pull knowledge straight from my head? Can it hear me thinking right now?_ The voice doesn't respond to his thought, but that doesn't necessarily mean its a no.

"Who are you?" Harry asks out loud, staring at the tattoo the way he would look at another person if speaking directly to them.

" _And here I thought you would spend all night ignoring me,"_ the voice says, sounding amused. _"My name is Kichiro."_

 _Kichiro?_ It sounds foreign. But then, that makes sense, considering he had to pull the knowledge of how to speak English from his head.

"And _what_ are you?" Harry asks, not even bothering to sound kind with it. He doesn't see the point of trying to be nice to someone who's basically being an unwanted passenger not just on his body, but literally in his head.

Kichiro laughs. He'd call it a belly laugh, but since Kichiro is a disembodied voice in his head, he's not sure that such a description really applies.

" _I guess that's a fair question, but I'm a human of course!"_ Kichiro says, though he hesitates for a moment afterwards. _"Well I_ _ **was**_ _a human._ _"_

 _Was a human? Not anymore?_

"And what are you _now_?" Harry asks, stressing the last word.

" _Now? All I am now is a chakra impression inscribed into a seal. Though it is a fairly elaborate seal, I'll grant you."_

 _Chakra impression? Seal?_ Kichiro might as well be speaking gibberish, though Harry supposes it could be a translation issue.

" _I suppose that doesn't mean anything to you. I'm not alive, not truly. This… tattoo holds what remains of my power in life"_ Kichiro explains, sounding a little stuck on the word tattoo.

It only sort of makes sense to Harry.

"So you're not really alive… Then what do you want from me?" Harry asks. Every answer just seems to come with more questions.

" _Well, we won't talk about that yet. I'm not sure I trust you enough."_

Harry actually laughs at that. "You don't trust _me?_ And here I thought you were the one living on _my_ body."

The thought reminds him of Voldemort living on the back of Quirrell's head. He quickly disregards the thought before it makes him sick.

"Shouldn't I be the one deciding whether or not to trust you?" he adds.

" _Don't be confused,"_ Kichiro says firmly. _"I can't be_ _ **living**_ _off your body_ _… I'm dead, remember? And I'd consider you a fool if you trusted me so soon."_

Harry doesn't even know what to say to that, but Kichiro continues before he can even decide.

" _But still, I should get_ _ **some**_ _points for getting rid of that Tom fellow, right?_ _"_

The name drop is enough to have Harry immediately tense. How could Kichiro know of Voldemort, and that his name is Tom? And what does he mean about getting rid of him?

The answer hits Harry immediately, and it's far from a comforting thought.

"There was a part of Tom living inside me…" Harry trails off. Even the thought of it makes him feel like vomiting. But it's the only thing that makes sense. Looking back even, everything starts to click into place like pieces of a puzzle.

Dumbledore had said simply that some of Voldemort's powers had transferred to Harry the night he tried the killing curse, but the real truth is far more complicated. A part of Tom himself had clung to Harry, living in the very scar that made him famous. It's likely even the reason that Tom never truly died.

" _Yes"_ Kichiro answers simply. _"But he didn't like the idea of sharing your body, and he started using_ _ **your**_ _power to attack me directly. I had no choice but to retaliate in kind._ _"_

"And that's what made me so sick," Harry says in understanding.

" _Yes. I apologise. Given time, I would have tried to find a more subtle method to rid you of him, but he was far too aggressive, and I had no choice but to pit myself fully against him."_

 _Kichiro was able to defeat Tom? Even a small part of him?_ It's not an unimpressive feat. The only wizard Harry's ever heard of who might be able to claim the same is Dumbledore himself, and there are few, if any, wizards capable of matching _him._

"I don't know whether to thank you or be angry at you," Harry admits, caught in ambiguity between the two emotions. "The two of you fighting inside my body almost killed me."

" _I know. Again, I can only apologise. He was stronger than I was expecting, especially for someone who's not a shinobi."_

 _A what?_

But Harry doesn't get the chance to ask.

"Harry?" Ron asks, stepping into the bathroom behind him and rubbing sleep filled eyes. "Who are you talking to?"

Harry's like a deer caught in headlights.

"Nobody," he says quickly, probably too quickly. As much as he trusts Ron, he'd learned the hard way last year that hearing voices isn't exactly the best sign in the wizarding world, and there's no way that Ron would keep quiet about it. Until Harry knows more, he's not going to share this new development.

Ron looks at him suspiciously for several awkward moments.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asks.

Harry shrugs, recovering himself. "I've been asleep for the last three months. More rest is the least of my concerns."

Ron still looks suspicious for a few seconds before nodding in understanding. "Fair enough. Night, Harry," he says, stepping back out and into their dormitory.

As soon as Ron's gone, Harry's trying to talk to Kichiro again.

"Kichiro," he whispers. "Are you still there?"

No answer.

Harry groans in frustration. He hasn't asked even a _quarter_ of the questions that he wants to, most pressing of which is the connection to his mother. It can't be a coincidence that the scroll was found in a box bearing her name.

He steps out of the bathroom and goes back to his bed, pulling the curtains shut and casting a quick silencing charm so the other's wont hear him. The last thing he needs is his housemates thinking that he's insane, talking to himself all through the night.

No matter how much he tries, Kichiro doesn't respond again.

* * *

 **Notes**

Starting to get into things a little more now. Answers are coming slowly, but they are coming. I'm not really into the big paragraphs of exposition, so I'll slowly reveal what happened over time and what it all means.

There was a few reviews asking about the bijuu. They're in the fic, but none are in Harry. He's not a Jinchuuriki in this fic.

 **Review Responses**

 _ **Missmeow1968**_ \- Kurama isn't in Harry.

 _ **Dragonloverpower**_ \- Lost, but not forever.

 _ **The Sin of Justice**_ \- I appreciate the long review. It means alot that you took the time to really think things through. I can see what you mean about Vernon, and honestly I came very close to not adding in the part about him seeing Harry awake. In the end though, this fic is a full AU, so a little OOC'ness isn't something that bothers me so much. Sorry if that's a dealbreaker for you. The characters won't do anything utterly ridiculous, like Dumbledore suddenly slaughtering half his students, but still.

Thanks very much for the tip about dialogue punctuation. I'm actually a little embarrassed about it, since I thought my punctation wasn't too bad, but at least it's an easy fix. I'm going back through my other fics and fixing them as well. By the time this gets posted the first two for this fic should be done.

I'm not going to make Dumbledore an outright jerk. It's just that Harry is angry about the lack of answers.

 _ **253910**_ \- Harry _is_ angry about that. Thanks, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

 _ **Hikari Nova**_ \- There's alot I haven't revealed yet, so maybe that's why you're confused?

 _ **ShadowLady89**_ \- Pairings are undecided. They're not a focus in this fic, but it's highly unlikely there will be slash in this one.

 _ **UseFistNotMouth**_ \- Harry's not a jinchuuriki in this fic :)


	4. Ancient Runes

**Chapter 4 - Ancient Runes**

It's quite easy to convince McGonagall to let him transfer from Divination to Ancient Runes. Had he begun the year in Divination and attended some classes, he suspects that she might not be so forgiving. But since he's missed _all_ of the years classes so far, she's probably feeling a little more lenient. Not to mention that she is probably one of the few people who's privy to the _real_ reason that Harry had been tardy so far, so she's probably not all that surprised that he would want to explore some of the mystery surrounding his new tattoo.

In reality, she actually seemed rather pleased that Harry had come to her, and even more pleased that another one of her Gryffindor students had chosen a subject she considers to be more academically relevant than the supposed 'guesswork' of Divination.

But Ron had been sorely disappointed. They'd chosen Divination together, mostly so they could have a class together that they'd heard was essentially a free period. Still, Harry's glad that he's transferred. He's not about to become obsessively bookish and studious like Hermione, but neither can he afford to slack off anymore. Not if he's going to solve this mystery for himself, instead of relying on Dumbledore giving him information as he deems it necessary.

Judging from the way she's currently bouncing on her heels as they walk towards Harry's first Ancient Runes class, Hermione on the other hand couldn't be more thrilled.

"You're going to love it!" she claims happily. "It's really quite fascinating."

Harry smiles at her, but there's no real emotion in it. He loves Hermione, but sometimes she thinks the most inane facts are outstandingly interesting, so he's going to wait to form his own opinion on the class.

Harry knows he can't afford to be as blasé with his studies as he had been in his first and second years. Whether they end up being interesting or not, Harry _has_ to understand these symbols if he's ever going to truly understand the mark on his arm. That's especially true if Kichiro has decided he's not actually worth talking to, as appears to be the case.

They finally reach the classroom and step inside. There's nothing overly special about it, just a normal classroom on the sixth floor, a flat space set out with desks and chairs. It has a few bookshelves lining the back wall, and a blackboard at the front. There's a few odd markings hanging on the walls.

Most of the class has already arrived. Generally speaking, most of the people who he'd normally hang out with have taken Divination, so the only one in the room he's actually got more than a passing acquaintance with is Hermione.

Well, all except one. Draco Malfoy sees him enter immediately. He's sitting next to Pansy 'pug-face' Parkinson, who's giving him the usual Slytherin sneer.

"Well well, Potter," Draco drawls in his aristocratic manner. "I guess the rumors are actually true."

Harry rolls his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

 _It's too early in the day for this._

Draco looks him up and down, eyes finally settling on Harry's forehead. "I guess I can't call you scarhead anymore," he says, turning away from Harry and facing the front of the class.

Hermione drags Harry away before he gets the chance to make a comment, though even if she hadn't, he's not sure what he even would have said. It's not like Draco had actually insulted him, just brought attention to his now lack of scar.

 _Voldemort,_ Harry's mind supplies unhelpfully at the thought of the scar. It still makes him queasy to think that a part of such an evil man - the same man that murdered his parents - has been living inside him for so many years.

As soon as he's sitting, the door to the classroom flies open, and a woman rushes in and rushes down the aisle. She presumably the teacher, having set herself up in front of the blackboard.

She's a dark skinned woman, with a mess of brown frizzy hair atop her head, not too different from Hermione's, though hers is a few shades darker. She wears a blue headband on her forehead, just below her hairline. She's probably the youngest teacher Harry has seen at Hogwarts, appearing only several years out of Hogwarts herself.

"Sorry I'm late!" she says frantically, dropping a set of heavy looking books onto her desk before smiling out at the class. "I had a meeting with Professor McGonagall," she explains, though in reality, she's not even late. Her gaze settles on Harry. "Well hello! Minerva just finished telling me about the late addition to our class. Welcome!" She smiles happily. "I'm Professor Babbling."

Harry gets the feeling that the name is applicable to her personality.

"Now, I know you're a little behind, but I'm hoping you can catch up in your own time. For now, just try to keep up as best you can, okay?"

Harry catches her eyes drop briefly to his shoulder, the location of the tattoo. No doubt she was one of the so called experts called in to decipher it while he was comatose. It's actually quite a disheartening thought. If his teacher couldn't figure it out, then how is learning from her going to give _him_ any insight?

"I'll help him, Professor!" Hermione volunteers enthusiastically.

Professor Babbling gives her a thumbs up. "Excellent!"

She quickly turns around to the board, drawing a symbol on it in thick white chalk. It looks familiar, and Harry thinks he might have seen it on one of his mother's scrolls.

 _Not that I can check, since Dumbledore_ _ **stole**_ _them from me._

He decides to disregard the thought and focus on Babbling's lesson. It's going to be hard enough to learn what he needs to, he can't afford to be making himself too angry to pay attention.

"Now, beginning where we left off yesterday…" Babbling starts, lifting the chalk at the bottom of the board and drawing a strange symbol on the blackboard. "This is the rune for fire."

" _Wrong."_

Kichiro's sudden voice in his head has Harry startled enough for him to jump slightly in his seat, his knees banging loudly against the underside of the desk. Professor Babbling stops speaking to stare at him quizzically. The rest of the class, too.

"Everything okay?" Professor Babbling asks, her voice lined with obvious concern.

Harry nods quickly. "Sorry, Professor."

She gives him a strange sort of smile, but nevertheless continues with the listen.

 _He didn't talk to me all night, now he's happy to butt in?_ And of course he's not in a situation where Harry can actually talk back to Kichiro without everything thinking he's lost the plot entirely. That would make life far too easy.

"This rune has been seen in many places all around the world. Ancient China, Japan and Egypt, most especially. It's most prevalent use has been found in Ancient tombs and crypts, used in traps that have almost every time included fire," Babbling goes on.

Kichiro begins laughing in his head. _"So, so wrong,"_ he laughs _._

 _Will you shutup!_ Harry silently begs.

" _No,_ _ **you**_ _shutup,"_ Kichiro says unexpectedly. There's no heat in it, it just seems to be Kichiro's way of telling Harry that he can hear him.

 _So he_ _ **can**_ _hear my thoughts…_

There's no answer.

"Now, most scholars agree with the meaning of this rune, though of course there are some that believe that-"

" _They're probably wrong, too."_

Harry rolls his eyes. _"Can you hear my thoughts, or not?"_

" _When you direct them straight at me, yes,"_ Kichiro answers like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Harry lets out a sigh of relief. _Well at least that means he can't read_ _ **all**_ _my thoughts._ Harry waits for a moment to see if Kichiro answers. He doesn't. Next to him, Hermione's quill scratches across her page, trying to keep up with Babbling as she talks. Her face is awash with the usual fascination and curiosity that appears in most classes.

" _Your friend Hermione is really quite something. A veritable sponge of knowledge,"_ Kichiro says.

Harry frowns. _"What do_ _ **you**_ _know about her?"_ Harry asks accusingly.

" _I know everything about her that you do."_

" _I thought you couldn't read my thoughts?"_ Harry asks suspiciously, like he's caught Kichiro in a trap.

" _I can't, but I never said I don't have access to your memories,"_ Kichiro says.

 _He has access to my memories? Everything I've ever done, everything I've ever seen?_

" _No need to worry,"_ Kichiro adds. _"I'm not some kind of pervert. Besides, I was a teenage boy once myself."_

Harry blushes furiously. Kichiro laughs uproariously in his head.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione whispers, looking at him with concern. Kichiro laughs ever harder.

Harry nods slowly. "I'm fine," he lies. "Just… hot in here, is all."

Hermione raises an eyebrow disbelievingly. "If you say so."

" _I'm glad you think you're funny,"_ Harry snarls. The laughing continues, but it's slowly simmering down. He stops completely when Harry starts listening to Professor Babbling again.

"There's only a handful of Rune clusters that we know for _certain_ work with the fire rune, but the problem is that we only know what _some_ of those runes mean." Babbling turns around to face the board one more time. "For example, if you place the fire rune with one we learned last week," she continues, drawing another symbol in chalk. When she finishes, she turns to face the class. "Can anyone tell me what this rune means?"

Hermione sticks up her hand immediately. She doesn't even wait for Babbling to allow her to answer before she does so. "It's the rune for air, or wind. There's much debate about it's meaning."

Babbling nods once and smiles. "As always, very good Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor."

" _Air? Pfft,"_ Kichiro scoffs in Harry's head.

"When magic is applied to a combination of the two runes, which we then call a what?" the professor asks again.

"A cluster," Hermione supplies dutifully, getting another nod and smile from Babbling and the usual eye-rolling from the rest of the class.

" _A cluster? Save me from this nonsense,"_ Kichiro continues his grumbling.

" _Will you stop that? I'm trying to pay attention!"_

"So with magic applied to both runes…" Professor Babbling swishes her wand through the air. Both runes glow white for a moment before disappearing in a flash of sparks. Harry raises an eyebrow. He's not sure what he'd been expecting, but at the very least he thought it might be a little _showier._

"With both wind and fire together, you get something like combustion," Babbling says. "If they'd been placed and activated on a different medium, like wood, there would be more of an affect."

" _If I still had a body, I daresay this would be physically painful to watch,"_ Kichiro says. _"To think that an Uzumaki of all people would be taught fuinjutsu in such a way."_

 _Uzumaki? Fuinjutsu?_

" _The hell is an Uzumaki?"_ Harry asks shortly.

Kichiro doesn't answer.

" _Are you still there?"_

Once again, Kichiro has fallen into silence.

* * *

"So what do you think _this_ one is, Harry?" Hermione asks, scratching another symbol down onto her parchment and sliding it over in front of him.

Harry sighs. "I don't know… Wind or something?"

Hermione's eyebrows crease together. "We were only going over this earlier today!" she complains. "Weren't you paying attention?"

Ron looks over from the opposite lounge in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "Should've stuck with divination, mate." Despite how much he wants to learn about Ancient Runes to solve his mystery, Harry gets the feeling that Ron might just be right.

"I was, Hermione, but how do we know that these runes actually mean what you've been _taught_ they mean?" Harry asks.

Hermione looks mortified at the suggestion. "What do you mean? Professor Babbling taught us these _herself._ What else could they mean?"

Harry shrugs. "Well, they're _ancient_ runes, right? Professor Babbling kept saying things like 'scholars believe,' and talking about debate about their meaning. All that tells me is that nobody knows for _certain_ what they mean."

"Well, yes, I suppose… but what are the chances of that many scholars getting their meaning wrong? Especially considering that they can back up their findings by combining different runes for different effects. You saw the combustion effect from the fire and air rune earlier," Hermione says.

 _Because it was so impressive…_

"But if the meaning for the runes are so broad, then those sparks could mean anything, really. Sparks can be caused by more than just fire and air."

" _Well, at least I've got you thinking,"_ Kichiro is suddenly back. At least this time his presence doesn't cause Harry to jump.

"I know it must be frustrating to want all the answers right away, given your… predicament," Hermione says, flicking her gaze to where she knows the tattoo on Harry's shoulder is, "but be patient. One day I _know_ you'll have the answers you're looking for."

" _She really is very bright. Perhaps a bit too trusting with what's written in books,"_ Kichiro says.

"Maybe you're right, Hermione. Maybe for now if I just read the textbook for a bit." Harry has no real intention to read any of the textbook. From what he's seen so far it's all a crock, but he needs some excuse to go silent for a while so he can talk to Kichiro, if the strange disembodied voice decides he's actually worth talking to, that is.

" _Why do you always start talking to me when I'm busy?"_ Harry says irritably.

" _Those are the times I usually have something to add,"_ Kichiro explains simply.

" _So what pearls of wisdom do you have for me now?"_ Harry asks sarcastically.

" _Exactly what I said; I'm glad that I've got you thinking."_

Harry almost scoffs, though once again, everyone would think he's going loony. _"I wouldn't_ _ **have**_ _to think, if you'd just explain to me what the hell is going on. You keep using strange terms that I've never heard before, and every time I ask, you suddenly disappear!"_

" _Yes, that's true,"_ Kichiro acknowledges. Harry rolls his eyes. _"But it's not as simple as you make out. I can't teach you fuinjutsu - what you call ancient runes - without teaching you other things first."_

" _Then why don't you teach me? You care enough to call out my teachers for being wrong, but not enough to tell me what's right. Why can't you just teach me?"_ Harry asks.

" _Because what I want to teach you, I would never teach lightly. It's not like what your classes here are like. They're intense, and they take lifelong dedication to master fully. Are you up for that?"_

 _Good question._ Harry doesn't really know how to answer that question. More than anything he wants to understand what all of this means, but Kichiro is just a voice in his head, and no matter how much Harry feels like he can trust him, there's nothing really logical that suggests he should. Is it brave to learn from a strange voice in his head, or stupid?

" _No, I don't think I am,"_ Harry eventually answers. Even if it's pushing his patience, for now it might be safer if he tries to learn a little about Kichiro first.

* * *

 **Notes**

Sorry this took so long. I've been working hard on some of my other fics, mass rewrites and just all around trying to make them sound better. I've done with all that now, though, so I should be able to focus more time on just getting new chapters out. Nothing too new in this chap, but there are a few little facts here and there that reveal a little more about what's going on.

Also, thanks for everyone who's followed/favourited, and especially to those who've taken the time to review.

Till next time!

 **Review Responses - (Just so you know, if I answer part of your question and not another part, it's because I don't want to reveal that part yet - cheers).**

 _ **Missmeow1968**_ \- I'd prefer not to give too much away at this point. It will all become clear over the next few chapters anyway. I will say that it is during Naruto's timeline, not Boruto's.

 _ **RebeliousOne**_ \- Hopefully this chapter answered your questions haha.

 _ **Alaison**_ \- The shinobi time isn't in the past. Harry knew there was nothing he could to stop Dumbledore from taking the scrolls, and he'd made it clear that he wasn't listening to Harry.

 _ **Guest**_ \- There's only one guest review that didn't change the name, so this one's for that question. This _isn't_ a reincarnation fic.

 _ **AdamDarkAskari**_ \- Undecided on pairing. It'll be a long way off, anyhow.

 _ **RandomGuest**_ \- Harry was indeed furious that Dumbledore took his mother's things. At the same time, he knows it would have been a losing battle. Dumbledore had already made his position very clear. On your point about Draco, you should know that I probably won't be sticking to canon where he's involved.


	5. Remus Lupin

**Hey guys, long time no see. Before the chapter, I want to let you guys know that I've set up a discord for fanfiction, both mine and anyone elses. There I post frequent updates on any and all of my fics and keep people updating on where I am with my writing. Theres also a place to recommend fics to other people or promote your own or whatever. Just a place to talk about fanfiction, really. Sometimes I post snippets of chapters early there, too.**

 **FFN is weird with links, so I've had to put the link on my profile. There's people already on the discord, so go ahead and join!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - Remus Lupin**

"What do _you_ think, Harry?" Professor Lupin asks, looking over to him from the front of the class while his charmed piece of chalk jots down notes on the blackboard.

"Uhm, I think I'd probably use a full body-bind in that situation, sir."

Professor Lupin smiles widely. "Very good! And to think I'd been warned you might be a little behind after you started late this year."

" _Do you see it now?"_ Kichiro asks.

Harry almost rolls his eyes; getting used to trying to talk to someone in his head without letting on that anything is happening to the outside world is more challenging than what he'd thought it would be. He has to keep close control over his facial expressions, especially when Kichiro says something he disagrees with. Several times he's found people giving him odd looks when he's in the midst of a conversation with the man, or whatever the hell he is.

" _He's just making sure I'm keeping up because I started after everyone else. Professor Lupin treats me the same as every other student,"_ Harry replies, though he's not entirely certain of his own words.

He's had only a few defense against the dark arts classes since coming back to school, and already Kichiro's got the idea that the Professor is more interested in him than the other students. As much as Harry still disputes him, he's starting to see hints of it being true. Kichiro's been going on about it from the very first lesson, but it's only now that he's beginning to see the truth of it.

The fact is, Professor Lupin seems to ask his opinion more than he does the others, though of course that's something that could easily be attributed to what Harry just said - that the new Professor is just making sure that he's keeping up. But it's the lingering looks that Harry catches when the Professor thinks he isn't looking - the way he stares at Harry like he knows him or something. Still, that could also be because he's is the boy-who-lived.

Harry just hopes its not another Lockhart situation, as unlikely as that seems. Lockhart had been completely obvious from the very first lesson, or even before that, really, in Flourish and Blotts. Professor Lupin though is completely different; he's disheveled and a little scarred, and he seems to be exhausted all the time. No, whatever reason this new Professor has to be interested in him, it's not like Lockhart.

"Okay, why don't we all line up across the room from each other. Everyone grab a partner," Lupin says. With a screeching of chairs across the floor, everyone moves towards the back of the room, an open area set aside for the sorts of exercises Lupin's going to have them doing. As usual, Harry partners with Ron.

"Today you'll be practicing the shield charm. If you remember from our practice yesterday, you'll know that the correct incantation is…"

"Protego," the class answer in chorus.

"Excellent. Now, the person's on the left, cast only light jinxes at your opponent, please. On the right, try to defend yourselves using the shield charm." With Harry being on the right, he's to start on the defensive. He gives a nod at Ron, who casts a light stinging hex at him.

"Protego!" Harry says loudly, swishing his wand in front of him. As expected, a thin, ethereal blue shield springs up in front of him, absorbing Ron's spell before it can hit.

"Excellent work Harry!" Professor Lupin claps from where he stands off to the side, observing.

" _Yes, very good work, though your Professor should really be teaching the basics of defending yourself, before this,"_ Kichiro adds.

From what they'd learned yesterday, Harry had the impression that the shield charm _is_ the basics. _"What do you mean? This is the most basic shield charm there is…"_

" _Shielding yourself is most definitely not the best way to defend yourself. The best way to defend yourself is to not get hit altogether,"_ Kichiro explains.

Once again, Harry has to struggle not to frown. He's far from an expert on dueling, but evasion is definitely not a tactic he's heard of as being popular. Frankly, most spells are far too fast to properly avoid if they're aimed well, at least on purpose. He's managed to dodge a spell or two by instinctively ducking, but certainly not on purpose.

" _Evasion?"_ Harry asks suspiciously. _"Really? Theres only so much you can avoid. Even if you can manage to dodge a few, one is bound to hit eventually."_

" _Well that really depends on skill. The fact is, you should be learning about stance and movement before any of this. It's best to learn to make yourself as small a target as possible, and then evading attacks becomes a whole lot easier,"_ Kichiro says.

Harry frowns, and Ron hesitates before he casts his next jinx. "Whats wrong, mate?"

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asks, ignoring Ron's question. "Would it be worthwhile learning how to avoid spells, rather than blocking them?"

Across from him, Ron looks at him like he's grown a second head. Harry can't blame him.

"Learn how to avoid them?" Remus asks, his voice lined with curiosity. "What makes you ask that?"

Harry shrugs. "Just wondering, I guess. I mean, if you can avoid a spell altogether, that's better than needing to use a shield charm, right?"

Remus lifts a hand to his chin, contemplating Harry's question. "I suppose that's a logical way to look at it, but it's not realistic. Spells are fast, and it wouldn't be feasible to expect to be able to dodge a barrage of curses or jinxes thrown your way."

Kichiro lets out a sort of huffing sound in his head, strange, considering he doesn't need to breathe. _"I could've done it at seven years old."_ He doesn't say it in an arrogant, conceited sort of way, more just that it's mere fact. _"It's all about chakra, and you wizards don't really know how to use it properly, even if you think you do."_

That's a strange thing to say… If he's not a wizard, then what the hell is he?

" _What do you mean you wizards?"_ Harry asks.

Kichiro makes a sound like a scoff in his head. _"A funny state of things for me to end up with the_ _ **one**_ _Uzumaki who has no idea what chakra is,"_ he laughs.

" _Can you stop speaking gibberish all the time? What does the even mean?"_ Harry asks shortly.

" _If you ever decide to let me teach you, I'll tell you,"_ Kichiro answers.

Curious though he is, it still seems like a bad idea to start 'learning' from Kichiro, whatever that could possibly mean. True though got rid of Tom and the scar, its not entirely impossible that it means that Kichiro is even _worse_ than Tom. There's still the fact that he is stuck on Harry's body to consider, and in his mind, so it's a big risk to take. Even more, his arrival had Harry comatose for nearly two months.

As much as he desperately wants answers, he can't afford to be stupid about it. With a frustrated huff he simply refocuses on the class, wondering how in the hell he's ever going to get answers on his own.

* * *

"All righ' third years, gather round!" Hagrid booms from the steps of his hut by the forbidden forest.

Harry can't help but smile at the sight of his first and oldest friend now as an official professor at Hogwarts. For so long he had to live with the shame of being expelled from the school, and even though he never seemed to wear it publicly, he surely felt it. Now though, the real culprit behind the Chamber of Secrets has been revealed, and not only can Hagrid legally perform magic again, but he's allowed a role of greater responsibility.

Hagrid deserves it, too. As it turns out, his love of creatures is genuinely backed by an almost encyclopedic knowledge of them - even if his method of teaching is a little unorthodox and awkward. He gives Harry a little wink as the other students approach.

"I've got something real special to show you today," Hagrid says, unable to tear the wide grin from his face. "So make sure you pay attention. Most wizards never get to see this particular creature in the wild, though this one 'ere's domesticated."

Hagrid lifts two fingers into his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle before holding his arm out, the grin never leaving his face. There's the familiar singsong that Harry's heard before just a few times, but now he'd recognize it anywhere. After all, one doesn't forget a creature that helps in defeating a basilisk.

" _Ahh, I hoped I'd get to see it in person - well, what counts as in person for me now, anyway,"_ Kichiro says.

For a moment Harry is surprised, but of course Kichiro has seen Fawkes before, in Harry's memories. It's a strange sensation, that. Kichiro is interpreting everything Harry sees, everything he's seen before, but with a different take than Harry himself.

" _You've never seen a Phoenix?"_ Harry asks, watching with a smile as Fawkes circles overhead, singing his beautiful melodic song. Even the Slytherins look content, and where Hagrid was met with sniggers and laughs before, now they seem enraptured in the beautiful bird, like watching a flying lick of flame.

" _No. They're legendary where I'm from, but I've never seen one myself. In fact, I've never even_ _ **met**_ _someone who has seen one. You are quite blessed to count one as an ally."_

Harry can only agree, especially since Fawkes' expressive eyes are boring into Harry's as he lands gently on Hagrid's arm. Without any sort of communication, he can tell that Fawkes remembers him, almost like he's saying hello just to Harry with a simple look. Ever so slightly, Harry inclines his head and gives Fawkes just the briefest flash of a smile.

"This is Fawkes," Hagrid says. "You all know what 'e is?"

Hermione's hand shoots up so fast it's a wonder her shoulder doesn't pop out. Nevertheless, despite the fact that most of them have probably never seen a phoenix, it'd be hard to believe that a single student amongst them doesn't know that's what Fawkes is, and Hagrid's question is probably rhetorical.

Rhetorical or not though, if there's a question, Hermione's probably going to be the one to answer it. "Fawkes is a Phoenix of course," she says. "They're incredibly strong, and their tears have healing powers. They have an unbelievable sense of loyalty. If you can manage to befriend a phoenix, you have a friend for life."

" _Now there's a creature that knows how to use it's chakra,"_ Kichiro says while Hagrid awards some house points to Hermione.

Harry nearly rolls his eyes. More words he _knows_ that Harry doesn't understand. _"Really? Again? Is the goal just to make me so curious that I have no choice but to let you teach me?"_ Harry asks.

" _Apologies. Your world is so different from my own, it's difficult for me_ _ **not**_ _to comment on it."_

" _But you can't comment without using words I don't know the meaning of?"_ Harry asks. It's probably a good thing that Harry has seen Fawkes in action already, because keeping focus on Hagrid's class and conversation with Kichiro is just about impossible.

" _There's an easy way to solve that problem, isn't there?"_ Kichiro asks. _"I can't even explain the meaning of the word chakra without explaining everything that comes along with it. Until you're ready to learn, it'll probably just be something to put up with."_

Harry rolls his eyes. _"And if I'm_ _ **never**_ _ready?"_

" _The time will come when you learn you can trust me,"_ Kichiro says, his tone utterly confident.

It's only moments later that the air outside Hagrid's hut begins to grow cold, though the sun remains high in the sky and only seconds before there wasn't so much as a gust of wind. Now though it's like a freezing wave is rolling over the grounds, the grass becoming thick with frost and ice, and breath becomes visible on the air.

" _On your guard, Harry!"_ Kichiro warns, sounding deathly serious.

"What's going on?" One of the Slytherins demands. "Is this some kind of weather charm?"

The hairs on Harry's arms stand on end, and its all too clear that it's not the result of some spell or charm. He begins to feel strange, almost like he's being sapped of his energy, and his head begins to swim.

And then Fawkes begins to sing. The relief is immediate. His mind becomes less boggled, and the frigid icy air becomes less severe. The effect is just as apparent on the others, even Hagrid, whose looking more haggard and pale than Harry has ever seen him. He's definitely the worst affected, though some others don't look to be faring much better. Neville has almost dropped to his knees, and one of the Slytherins looks as though he's about to vomit.

"Dementors!" Hermione says, her voice lined with more fear than Harry has ever heard.

It makes sense. He'd been told from Ron and Hermione that the dark creatures from Azkaban were here guarding the school to find Sirius Black, but what were they doing on the grounds? Sure enough, when Harry looks into the sky he can see them, like great wingless bats bringing despair wherever they go. The closer they get, the more the coldness sets back in, even with Fawkes' magical singing.

A flash of green fills his vision, and he can hear a woman screaming out his name. Its the most awful sound he's ever heard, and not by a small margin. It makes everything in the world lose its color, and everything lose its meaning. He wants to curl in on himself - just go to sleep and forget everything.

" _It's a Genjutsu, Harry. Try to focus,"_ Kichiro urges, though Harry can barely understand him through the dizziness and visions flashing through his mind's eye.

" _What the hell is a Genjutsu?"_ Harry manages to think, only his frustration with another strange word enough to keep him focused. _"_

" _It's an illusion. Your phoenix friend is trying to counter, but his efforts are in vain. I can help you. You need to focus your chakra!"_

Harry doesn't answer, or can't. His thoughts have been all but replaced by a flash of green light and a familiar, desperate scream.

" _Your magic!"_ Kichiro tries to urge him. _"Focus your magic and disrupt the genjutsu!"_

But the Dementors are almost on them now, and Harry can barely register that Kichiro is saying anything at all.

Before he blacks out, a silvery wolf dances across his vision.

* * *

Two months in a coma, and Harry's back in a hospital wing in a matter of days. Without even opening his eyes he has no doubt that it's where he is. He's been there so many times that the odd aroma of combined magical disinfectant and potions fumes is unmistakable, and deeply frustrating.

"Easy, Harry," a calming voice sounds next to his bed. "Just take it slow."

He'd been expecting to hear Madam Pomfrey bustling about the infirmary, or perhaps her admonishing tone for him ending up there so soon into the school year, but the distinctly male voice has his eyes snapping open.

Sitting next to his bed is Professor Lupin, his scarred features looking even worse when worry lines are also stretched across his face. Still, he manages a light smile when Harry opens his eyes. "It's okay, just relax."

The brightness of the room is enough for a brief bout of dizziness, and his head still feels light from whatever the Dementors had done. He squeezes his eyes shut again, as if he can will the feeling away.

"Here," Professor Lupin says, holding out something to Harry. "Eat this, it'll make you feel better."

"Is that chocolate?" Harry asks, squinting open one eye to protect himself from the brightness. Remus doesn't answer, just pushes the chocolate into Harry's hand and closes his fingers around it. His hands are warm over Harry's, still cold from the attack at Hagrid's hut.

Warmth spreads through Harry as soon as the chocolate goes down, spreading to his frosty fingertips and all the way down to his toes. Even his head feels better, and Harry is able to open his eyes fully without any pain or sensitivity.

"Better, right?" Remus smiles.

Harry nods, but he has way too many questions to bother with niceties.

"I passed out?" Harry asks. "What happened?"

Remus lets out a sigh. "The Dementors were never meant to enter the grounds, but that's what happened. A swarm of that many… it's lucky I got there in time."

" _You_ sent them away?"

Remus rubs the back of his neck. "I could feel their presence on the grounds even from within the castle. I'm just sorry I didn't get there sooner. You should never have had to suffer such creatures."

It's not the fact that it happened that's bothering him though. At this point it would be more surprising if danger _wasn't_ a constant possibility at Hogwarts. What concerns him more is that he is the only one in the hospital wing. All the other beds are empty, and there's nobody besides he and the Professor in the long room.

"Am I the only one that passed out?" Harry asks. "Out of everyone, I was the only one affected that badly?"

Harry lifts his hand to the tattoo that is the source of Kichiro. It must be the cause of why he is the only one who came to genuine harm. What else is different about him?

Remus eyes the movement of Harry's hand. "I know what you're thinking, but that mysterious mark isn't why you were the only one to lose consciousness," he says. "What do you know about Dementors?"

Harry shakes his head in answer. He'd missed Dumbledore's opening address at the start of the year. If it weren't for Hermione telling him about it, he wouldn't even have known there was anything guarding the school at all.

"Well, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, you should believe me when I say that they are amongst the most foul and loathsome creatures in our world. They feed on despair and misery, and their mere presence is enough to make their victims relive their darkest moments."

"But still, I was the only one to need the hospital wing? If it's not this," Harry motions to the tattoo, "then what? Am I just weak? Is there something wrong with me after the coma?"

Remus shifts forward in his seat next to the bed so he can look Harry dead in the eye. "You are _not_ weak, and Madam Pomfrey assures us that there are no lingering effects from your ordeal over the summer holidays," he says. "The Dementors affected you so because there is true tragedy in your past, memories the likes of which your classmates could never understand."

It hits him like a bombshell, the realization of what he'd heard when the Dementors came near. The woman screaming his name. If it was a memory, then… "My mother," Harry murmurs softly, barely loud enough to be audible at all. "She was screaming my name."

Professor Lupin turns away for a moment, pushing his chair back and away from the bed with a sniff. "I'm so sorry. It's not something you should ever have to remember."

" _He's right, and I'm sorry you had to hear it,"_ Kichiro interrupts, _"but did you see his reaction just now?"_

As usual, Kichiro makes himself known at the exact time that Harry isn't expecting him to. Still, he has a point. Lupin's reaction to Harry hearing the final words of his mother is more than it should have been. Even now he's looking at Harry with genuine sadness, rather than sympathy.

" _But what does it mean?"_ Harry asks.

" _I can only draw one conclusion. If he's visibly sad at the mention of your mother, I can only imagine that he knew her personally - at the very least, that he cared about her,"_ Kichiro says. _"It would also explain his interest in you."_

It's sound logic. Even the fact that it's Lupin here by his bedside, rather than one of the others that he knows better, or even one of his friends, is proof enough that there is something strange. But try as he might, Harry can't think of a single reason other than Kichiro's which could make sense. It's not impossible that he's just diligent in his duties, but that doesn't feel like the right answer. Kichiro must be right.

"You knew my mother, didn't you?" Harry asks, though his certainty of the answer sets in even as the words leave his mouth.

Lupin's eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twitches upwards into a small grin. "You're either remarkably perceptive, or I'm not as subtle as I try to be," he says. "Yes, I knew her. Quite well in fact. She was in my year at Hogwarts, so I knew her even beforeshe married James."

"So you knew-" Harry begins, but Lupin is nodding before he can even get the question out.

"James was… well, he was one of my best friends. I know you've probably heard this before, but you really do look _just_ like him. People had told me that, of course, but to someone who knew him at that age - it's a bit chilling."

It's not the first time someone has told Harry that they knew his parents, but it _is_ the first time that he's been told with real emotion. Others say it in a way that is sympathetic - poor Lily and James died at the hands of Voldemort, leaving their only son an orphan. If they ever knew his parents, it was only from afar, not enough that they ever left a hole in their heart.

Lupin is different. His wistful tone and mournful features are enough to be certain that he truly _knew_ them, cared for them - _misses_ them. Lupin can understand what Harry's lost, because he's lost it too.

"Do you think…" Harry asks. "Do you think you could tell me about them?"

Lupin shifts in his chair and moves a hand to Harry's arm. "I could, absolutely. I could tell you stories about them that I doubt anybody else would even know, and I will, if you like. Right now though, I need to rest. It's been a taxing afternoon, given everything that's happened."

He hadn't noticed it before, but now with him mentioning it, Lupin does look _tired._ His eyes have heavy dark bags hanging under his eyes, and his movements seem a little slow and staggered. He looks as though he's been awake for day on end, and every moment is a struggle not to be asleep.

"Then, do you think I could maybe come to your office one day?"

Lupin slowly rises from his seat, and a smile stretches across his face. "I'd like that very much, Harry."

It's not too long after Professor Lupin leaves that Madam Pomfrey is bustling back into the infirmary. As usual for her she admonishes Harry for ending up back there, despite him being faultless, and makes him drink several foul smelling potions.

"You should also know that the headmaster is doing absolutely everything in his power to make sure that the Dementors won't enter the grounds again without permission," she says.

Harry instinctively screws up his nose at the mention of Dumbledore, but he nods silently. Another run in with Dementors is just about the last thing he wants. Even with Lupin's chocolate and Pomfrey's potions their effect isn't completely gone, not to mention the sound of his mother screaming. Now that he's heard it, it'll probably be impossible to forget.

" _If you let me, I can teach you the skills necessary that those creatures could never harm you again,"_ Kichiro tries.

Harry's genuinely tempted at that. If it means that he wouldn't ever have to hear his mother's scream again…

Saying no is going to be so much harder, now.

* * *

 **Notes**

 _Woops, didn't mean to make you guys wait that long :/_

 _Believe it or not, I've actually been writing more in 2019 than in previous years, it's just taken me quite awhile to get back to this fic._

 _A bit of a slow chapter, but it starts to get more exciting from the next chapter onwards, and while I'm not going to set myself an exact time to get the next chapter out, I can tell you with absolute confidence it wont be anywhere near as long as the wait between the last chap and this one._

 _Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it at least._

 _PS - Remember to join my discord!_


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